


A Statement on Web and Flesh

by HereIBe



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Body Horror, Chronic Illness, Loss of Control, No beta we kayak like Tim, OC not important to plot, Statement Fic, barely any plot tbh but i tried
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-10
Updated: 2020-02-10
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:48:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22656535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HereIBe/pseuds/HereIBe
Summary: There is an overlap between The Web and The Flesh.  Loss of control plus living in a meat prison, the best of both worlds!: Statement of Elizabeth Schaefer, regarding recent attempts to diagnose her medical issues.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 7





	A Statement on Web and Flesh

Statement of Elizabeth Schaefer, regarding the recent development of some medical issues. 

Statement begins.

You have to understand, I was only 21. And not some 70-year old lady that can break her hip at the slightest puff of wind, I’m young! And like any other 21 year old in America, I had… other things to think about on my birthday. Drinking a “healthy amount” wasn’t exactly the first thing on my mind. 

It’s not like I’d never touched a drop in my life! Every freshman girl knows that if you go to the frat parties, they’ll give you all you can drink for free. I was used to it. Only difference now is they’d finally let me into the bars after seeing my ID. That and now I could buy for my other friends too. So we were celebrating, that’s all. 

I might have had a bit much to drink, and Alyssa might have brought some brownies over to pre-game with. But I got home just fine! We know how to keep each other safe, and my girls made sure I had a good time without having too good a time, you know? So overall I had a responsible, happy, wonderful, 21st birthday.

I lived with three other girls that year, Alyssa, Weronika, and Lia. They were all knocked out the day after a crazy night, but I’ve always been a morning person - getting up after a bender is practically my superpower. I was making coffee and scrolling through my texts when I noticed that the usual early-morning blurriness of my vision wasn’t clearing up. I didn’t think of it too much, and just assumed that my eyes were dry. I had always had 20-20 vision and had gotten my eye exam every year, I didn’t even need glasses. But as I drank my coffee I suddenly couldn’t read anything at all on my phone anymore — I was seeing double. 

But like I said, I’m young! And like all young people, I felt invincible. I just chalked it up to a fluke and had fun making myself dizzy and trying to navigate my way to our couch. Figured I’d sleep it off. I was still there an hour later when Lia came downstairs to give me a grouchy hungover greeting. I laughingly told her about the double-vision, and she was a bit more concerned than I had been. She thought it must be a weird response to the edibles; probably wouldn’t last more than a few hours. At this point we noticed that I couldn’t keep my eyelid open, but again I just thought it was a hilarious reaction to the weed, nothing to be worried about. 

I wasn’t an athlete, but I watched my figure. I ate healthy, I exercised, the whole nine yards. So you have to understand that this came out of nowhere. That first day was mild. One day I couldn’t control my eyes, the next day I couldn’t lift my arm to brush my hair. And it kept growing from there. Trying to unload our measly four plates from the dishwasher would invariably lead to shards of ceramic on the floor; my fingers just couldn’t grasp the plates tightly enough. 

Now, as I write this statement, my handwriting becomes barely legible when my fingers decide to drop or jerk the pen. When I try to talk too long, the words get distorted as the muscles in my throat and tongue gradually just… stop listening. Sometimes, on a flight of stairs, my hips or legs will all of a sudden just stop working. I am here, inside this body that is not listening to me. As time goes on, I am losing more and more control.

I always thought of myself and my body as one unit, but now… I am not so sure. 

If you were to cut off my finger, for example -- I would scream and cry and feel pain. But I would not be gone, because the finger is part of my body, but it is not me. My body is simply the flesh I am housed in.

How much of this flesh would you have to cleave away before there was nothing left but the me inside? And how do I deal with being trapped in a pile of flesh that isn’t responding?  
At times, when they aren’t listening, all I have wanted to do is cut off the dead weight of my limbs - to throw the rotten meat away from my whole self… but where is the divide - limbs, skin, muscle, bone - where is the ME kept?

What is this body other than a pile of flesh, a pile of meat? Am I cursed to live within this body, without control, just watching from unresponsive eyes as it slowly goes rancid around me?

There are limits to my autonomy. There are limits to my own control. But if I’m not in control of my body… then what is?

Statement ends.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic ever, so please be gentle with feedback :)  
> Story draws heavily on my own medical fun-time experiences -- I'm doing ok now but still have a lot of fear and anger towards my body, so this felt like a good way to get some of that out.
> 
> Remember to drink responsibly, kiddos!


End file.
